


If I Could Turn Back Time

by pure1magination



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Much-Needed Kiss, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, It ends happy I promise, M/M, Memories, Rescue Missions, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has kicked himself a thousand times for not being able to save Bucky. Now that Bucky is living in Stark Tower with him and the rest of the Avengers, Steve hopes that Bucky will recover more of his memories. But try as he might, Bucky just can't.</p><p>It's heartbreaking to watch, really. And Tony doesn't really do heartbreak. </p><p>So Tony comes up with an idea to reunite Steve with his long-lost Bucky. </p><p>That idea is a time machine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (yes I'm referencing the Cher song with that title)

“It’s not that bad,” Natasha insisted, arms crossed, hip leaning against the counter.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “It’s that bad.”

“He _is_ pretty mopey lately,” Clint agreed.

“Mopey?!” Tony leapt away from the counter and gestured with his hands. “The guy is a _mess.”_

“He’s been through a lot,” Natasha acknowledged with a shrug.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Yeah. The guy has been through a lot. We _all_ have. But if I have to listen to him humming ‘Tears On My Pillow’ _one more time_ —!”

Bruce’s mouth tilted up in a sad little smile and they all fell silent. Sure enough, in the other room, Steve Rogers was humming again as he made pancakes. Bucky was sitting at the table in the kitchen, head in his hands, sullenly staring ahead.

Tony gestured with both hands to emphasize his point.

“Okay,” Bruce admitted, “It’s pretty bad. But what do you suggest we do?”

* * *

 Steve and Bucky were laying side-by-side in bed, a foot of space between them. Both were staring at the ceiling.

“Do you remember when,” Steve began.

Bucky sighed heavily before he could finish his sentence.

“…What?”

“Steve. No matter how many times you ask me, the answer is always gonna be _no._ I _don’t_ remember. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Those memories are in there, Buck,” Steve insisted for the thousandth time, rolling halfway over to face him. “We just need to—”

“Need to _what,_ Steve? ‘Dig deeper’? Don’t you think I’d remember if I could? But I _can’t._ Those memories are _gone._ I know you miss the guy I used to be, and I know you still think he’s in there somewhere, but he’s not. He’s gone.”

“But Buck,” Steve protested, voice breaking.

Bucky covered his ears with his pillow. “No! I’ve had enough of this! Just let it go, Steve!”

“Bucky,” Steve repeated, leaning over and reaching for Bucky’s arm.

Bucky rolled over, away from Steve. Steve’s hand stilled mid-air, just above Bucky’s right shoulder.

“My name isn’t Bucky.” His voice came out cold. “I don’t even know who Bucky _is,_ except for what I’ve heard and read about him. Any memories I have are fuzzy at best. You constantly trying to make me remember shit is only pissing me off. Seriously. _Let it go.”_

Steve’s hand lowered and came to rest on Bucky’s right shoulder.

Bucky sighed loudly.

“Bucky,” Steve began.

Bucky sat up and glared at him. “Steve, _look at me!”_ he near-shouted. The blanket fell from his bare torso, revealing the many scars criss-crossing his torso. “Did your Bucky have these scars? _No._ ” He lifted his metal arm. “Look at this metal arm! Did your Bucky have that? _No._ I don’t even know what your Bucky _looked_ like, and _telling_ me,” he raised his voice again so Steve couldn’t interrupt, “is not gonna change that! If you can’t accept me the way I am, I don’t know if I want to be around you _at all.”_

Bucky stopped ranting long enough to take in the hurt expression on Steve’s face, the loneliness and longing in his eyes.

Bucky sighed heavily and flopped back down, facing away from Steve. “Good night,” he ground out harshly.

Seconds later, Steve had edged closer and wrapped his arms around Bucky. Bucky tensed at the contact, but didn’t move away. He felt Steve press a wet cheek to the back of his shoulder, heard Steve sniffle quietly as his arms tightened around Bucky’s torso.

Bucky just stared straight ahead.

* * *

Tony was up late in his workshop, blasting Black Sabbath and soldering something with his blowtorch. His sleeveless arms were smeared with grease.

A shadow loomed over him.

Tony flipped off the blowtorch and sat up. “Yeah?”

Bruce, hair sleep-tossed, with bags under his eyes, offered a steaming mug that smelled like heaven.

“You are my hero,” Tony stated warmly, taking the cup of coffee and drinking half of it in one gulp. “What brings you to my humble abode so late at night?”

Bruce’s mouth tilted up on one side in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Tony grimaced sympathetically and took another sip of coffee. “Good stuff.”

Bruce shrugged one shoulder. His own mug of something-or-other was cradled in both hands like a baby bird. It smelled herbal.

“What’re _you_ drinking?” Tony asked conversationally.

“Tony..” Bruce began, giving him a tired look.

“What! All I asked is what you’re drinking—”

“Tony,” Bruce cut in. “What are you working on?”

Tony drained the rest of his cup and set it on a bench. He got up to explain the large ring mounted on a trapezoidal stand. “Well, Cap’s been such a wet blanket lately. We all agreed on that. And he keeps humming that damn song, right? So I looked up the lyrics. You know what the refrain says?” He’s talking so fast he doesn’t give Bruce a chance to respond. “If we could start anew, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd gladly take you back, and tempt the hand of fate,” he quoted. He resumed tinkering as he spoke. “So I got to thinkin’. The last time Cap was really happy was when he was in the 1940s, right? He had his best buddy and everything was all hunky-dory. And okay yeah there was a war going on but I’ll get to that in a second—so I thought, what if Cap _could_ go back? What if he _could_ go save his Bucky or whatever? Or maybe just, I dunno, go talk to him again. Whatever he wants to do, _what if he could do it?”_

Bruce was frowning at Tony, brows deeply creased. “Tony… what you’re suggesting is dangerous. Sending Steve back in time could alter the future. He could erase us from existence.”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah yeah, I already did all the science-fiction reading on that. And believe me, they have some compelling arguments going either way. All kinds of fascinating theories about how time works and whatnot, BUT! That’s where the _actual science_ comes in. See, time doesn’t work the way you think it does. It’s all relative. Time and space, it’s all the same thing. So if I sent Cap back in time, I’d _also_ be sending him backwards in space, because the Earth is not only zooming around the sun, it’s zooming around the center of the Milky Way galaxy, and the galaxy it moving as well—really interesting stuff—but anyway! So he would be somewhere else completely. And that Earth would catch up with this one, yeah, but—basically it’s like opening up an alternate reality.”

Bruce’s frown had not eased. “So you’re proposing we send Steve into an _alternate universe?”_

Tony made a non-committal head bob. “Sort of. It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“But Tony—” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “This universe _needs_ Steve Rogers. And what if you’re wrong? What if he _does_ alter the time stream?”

“Like I said, I’m not worried about that. And yeah, this universe needs superheroes, but it’s not like he’s the only one out there.”

“Bucky needs him.”

“Bucky look like he wants to _kill_ him half the time.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need him.”

“Bruce—”

Bruce held up one hand to silence Tony. “All I’m saying is this is dangerous. Have you really thought this through, Tony?”

“Of course I have!” Tony proceeded to ramble on about time and space and science, but Bruce was tuning him out.

As soon as Tony stopped rambling long enough to take a breath in, Bruce spoke. “I really think you should talk to Steve about this.”

Tony snorted. “What did you _think_ I was gonna do?”

* * *

When Steve woke up, he was alone. The pillow beside him only had the barest hint of an indentation.

Steve sighed and rolled onto his stomach, trying to breathe in whatever trace amount of scent Bucky had left behind.

He was startled by the clearing of a throat behind him.

Steve jumped into a sitting position, fists at the ready.

“Easy!” Tony said, holding his hands up. “I just wanna talk to you.”

Steve lowered his hands and slumped. “Hey Tony.”

“Hey Steve,” Tony greeted brightly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I have a proposition for you.” He only waited long enough for Steve to meet his eyes before continuing. “What if I told you there was a way to get your Bucky back?”

Steve’s startled blue eyes met his, just like Tony expected them to.

“Hang on, don’t kiss me yet,” Tony joked. “It’s a little complicated, and it’s not gonna be easy, but I _did_ build something which might help. All I’m asking is you come take a look at it.” He pointed to Steve’s chest on ‘you’ and took a sip of coffee while he waited for Steve’s answer.

Steve frowned. “Is it some sort of mind-control device?” he asked warily.

“No, no! Nothing like that! C’mon.” Tony got up and gestured for Steve to follow.

Steve climbed out of bed and cautiously approached him.

Tony led him to his lab and gestured grandly to the seven-foot ring. “You like it?” He was grinning expectantly, hands outstretched towards the machine.

“…What is it?”

Tony’s exuberance kicked up a notch. “Time machine! You step in this side,” Tony demonstrated, “And when you step out _this_ side, poof! You’re somewhere- or rather, some _when_ \- else!”

Steve eyed the machine with wary distrust. “If stepping through that thing is supposed to take you to a different time, then why are you still here?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Because it’s not turned on, genius! –Here. Let me demonstrate.” He flipped a switch. The entire ring glowed blue. Tony typed something into the keypad next to the ring. “I am programming this to take me three seconds into the future.” Tony mock-saluted him. “See you in three seconds!” He stepped through the ring and disappeared.

Steve was left standing there, stunned. He barely had time to process Tony’s absence before Tony appeared suddenly on the other side of the ring, stepping out as though nothing had happened. “Tah-dah!” Tony announced.

Steve blinked. “…Okay, you’ve convinced me,” he said slowly, “It works.”

“Of _course_ it works, I invented it!” Tony picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip. “Now, here’s my evil-genius scheme. You see this keypad?” He beckoned Steve over so he could get a closer look. “You can program this to take you to any date and any time your star-spangled heart desires. You can revisit any point in history you want.” He watched Steve process this information.

“So…” Steve began, eyeing the keypad, “all I need to do is punch in the date and time, and step through the machine?”

“Exactly.”

Steve’s eyes swept over the machine, taking in every detail, arms across his chest, brows creased. “…Thank you, Tony,” Steve said finally.

“You’re welcome!” Tony called to Cap’s retreating back; the man walked like he was on a mission.

* * *

“How did he take it?” Bruce wondered aloud as Tony entered the room.

“Pretty well, I think.” Tony flopped down on a couch and sipped loudly on his milkshake.

“You think?” Natasha echoed.

“Take what?” Clint wondered, confused.

Tony flapped a hand. “He seemed a little unconvinced that I’d actually built a working time machine, but I showed him.”

Bruce frowned. “So it works?”

Tony scoffed, mildly offended. “Of _course_ it works! Hello! Genius here!” He pointed to himself.

“You built a working time machine?” Natasha asked, voice rising in pitch, eyebrows knitted together.

“Way cool,” Clint agreed.

Natasha shot him a frown.

Tony’s eyes bounced between the two of them. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Where is it,” Natasha asked in a disconcertingly toneless voice.

Tony backed into his couch, pace kicking up a notch. “You know, I don’t really think I want to tell you.”

Natasha stood, fists clenched. _“Where is it.”_

“Whoa. Tasha.” Clint reached out for her arm.

Her arm shook. Her face was aglow with icy rage.

“Natasha,” Bruce said, voice calm and sympathetic, eyes sad, “We all have red in our ledgers that we’d like to wipe out. But I don’t think a time machine is going to solve that problem.”

“He built one for Steve!” she accused. 

Tony held up his hands. “ _Steve_ isn’t on some sort of _revenge mission_.”

Natasha took a threatening step closer. “Is that what you want to call it?” she asked, voice eerily calm.

“Tasha!” Clint warned, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Natasha didn’t fight his grip, merely stood there glaring at Tony.

“I think we should all face our mistakes, and try our best to mend them,” Bruce stated, casting a disapproving glance at Tony.

Tony held his hands up. “Okay, so you’re all against me. But it’s out of my hands. I left it up to Mr. All-American Morals to decide what to do.”

“What did you tell him?” Bruce asked, afraid of the answer.

Tony took another sip of his milkshake. “Just explained how the machine works.”

“Tony,” Bruce warned.

“Okay, I _might_ have insinuated he could go into the past and see his Bucky again, but I didn’t _explicitly tell him_ where to go, that’s up to him!”

Bruce, Natasha, and Clint exchanged glances. The unspoken conversation was worried and tense.

“Oh Tony,” Bruce finally said. “What have you done?”

* * *

Steve stood in front of the glowing blue ring, his hair combed the way he used to comb it, off to one side with some gel. His pants were brown, his shoes modest, his shirt off-white. He carried a large bag on his back, something he’d kept from the military- brown and with lots of pockets. He’d checked and double-checked his supplies before coming here.

He punched in the date that was forever seared into his memory and stared at the numbers steadily glowing at him. He could go back to that day, that time, _right now._

But if he did, he wouldn’t have enough time. He needed to make sure he was there, right when Bucky needed him.

He turned it back one more day, and several hours, just to make sure.

Steve took a steadying breath. Tony had explained a little more of the specifics, including the little caveat that he _might_ not be able to return to this time.

But one look at Bucky glaring at him across the breakfast table had him convinced: this was worth it.

Steve pressed the button to activate the machine. He wondered for a gut-twisting second if there was anyone he ought to say good-bye to. But decided against it.

Chin up, back straight, eyes straight ahead, Steve Rogers stepped through the glowing blue ring.


	2. Chapter 2

The scent of Brooklyn curled around Steve like an old friend.

He received a few startled glances from passers-by; only to be expected since Captain America was currently across the ocean fighting Nazis in Europe. If anyone asked, though, Steve just laughed and said, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He didn’t need to ask directions to the nearest airport; he knew it by heart.

He’d learned how to steal a jeep in the SSR. Today, he was going to steal a plane.

Steve would have been perfectly willing to pay for it; the only problem was he needed to fly directly into enemy territory. No matter how congenial the airport, he knew they wouldn’t get him as close as he needed to be.

Hot-wiring an airplane really wasn’t that difficult, especially since he looked like he knew what he was doing and no one really questioned his presence there. He was out of the airport and halfway across the ocean before anyone noticed something was amiss.

The flight was long and lonely, and gave Steve plenty of time to think. He remembered this day down to the second, every crinkle of Bucky’s eyes as he smiled, every word, every laugh. The desperation in his eyes, the trust, the _hope,_ right before he fell. He remembered the burn of every bottle of alcohol as the meaningless flavors drained down his throat.

This time, it was going to be different.

Try as he may, no matter how many different ways he re-imagined the situation, he knew he couldn’t save Bucky from falling from that train. His past self was going to be there, and he didn’t have time to explain who he was or how he was there. He needed to let that happen.

But if there was one big regret in Steve Rogers’ life, it was assuming that Bucky had died when he’d fallen from the train. _He should have known._ Bucky had mentioned being drugged by Hydra; when he’d found him he _knew_ something was off. But he’d been so happy to see Bucky he hadn’t dwelled on it. Hadn’t given it much of a thought. His whole body had been too busy screaming _Bucky!_ over and over again.

He should have known somehow that Bucky had been given a knockoff version of the serum, should have known that meant his body didn’t break as easy. There had been signs, _God_ there had been signs! But Steve had chosen to ignore them because he was just so happy to have his friend back.

Now he knew. 

* * *

Steve landed the plane early the next morning. The snow was tinted bloody pink by the rising sun. He changed into his old Captain America costume and made his way through the jagged mountains.

The trek was long and grueling, the ground steep and slippery. But Steve Rogers was nothing if not determined. He found those train tracks around mid-day. He saw the ledge they’d been standing on—the zip-line was already being set up. He didn’t have much time.

Steve picked up his pace and jogged along the bottom of the valley, following the tracks. He remembered every punch, every gunshot. Just as he was getting close, he heard it: the sound that had haunted his nightmares all these years. Bucky’s scream echoed off the ravine.

Steve broke out into a flat-out sprint.

He thought the worst part was reaching out and almost brushing fingers right before Bucky fell.

He thought the worst part was watching his friend’s form shrink, the sound of his scream grow faint, as he fell to certain death. He thought the worst part was knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

He thought the worst part was realizing Bucky had been alive all that time, knowing he could have saved him.

As it turned out, the worst part was that Bucky didn’t stop screaming after he fell. Those awful, terrorized pleas for help kept erupting from his throat, guiding Steve to him like a homing beacon.

The blood seeping into the snow, the hoarse screams, Bucky clutching his arm: this was what Steve found when he arrived at the scene. He knelt in the snow beside his friend and threw his backpack on the ground. “Bucky! Bucky I’m here!”

“Steve?” Bucky sobbed, throat hoarse.

“Shhh, Bucky, it’s all right. I’m here!” Steve found the bandages and anti-septic in his pack and tended quickly to Bucky’s arm. He had no idea how much time he had before Hydra arrived.

“Steve!” Bucky sobbed. His voice was little more than painful air.

“Bucky,” Steve repeated with the same intensity, leaning close over him as he finished tending to his wound.

Just as Steve was zipping up his backpack, Hydra arrived. Teeth clenched in ferocity, Steve rose to his feet. The Hydra agents faltered, recognizing him. But not for long—Steve deflected the bullets, shielded him and his friend, before taking them all out on his own. The edge of Captain America’s iconic shield served as a guillotine that day. He didn’t stop until every enemy soldier was dead, collapsed in a bleeding pile on the snow. Steve had heard the term “seeing red”, but he’d never felt it so acutely before. Even after the last limp body tumbled to the snow, Steve stood over them, panting, holding his bloody shield. Never had he been so strongly compelled to mutilate a corpse.

“Steve,” Bucky croaked weakly behind him.

Steve spun around abruptly, eyes wide with worry, rage falling to the snow like a dead Hydra soldier. He knelt beside Bucky, who was trying to push himself into a sitting position. Steve put his hand on Bucky’s back. “Buck.. shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He dropped his bloody shield in the snow and cradled Bucky to his chest.

Bucky chuckled weakly, voice shot. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“Oh, Bucky!” Steve held him closer, tears blending with the blood and snow on Bucky’s navy blue uniform.

Bucky lifted a shaky arm—the only one he had left—and gently cupped the back of Steve’s neck. They stayed that way for a long time.

Then Steve backed away, eyes full of concern. “We need to get you to a medic.”

Bucky smiled passively, pale, eyes a little out-of-focus. “Whatever you say, Cap.”

“Come on.” Steve picked Bucky up and carried him bridal-style all the way back to camp.

* * *

“Why all the secrecy, Cap?” Bucky joked weakly. Steve had been ducking every social interaction he could ever since they’d come back to camp. He’d rushed Bucky to the medic’s tent, and judging by his hurried speech and tense posture, he was in a hurry to get out of there.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Steve answered, distracted. He kept checking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“Bullshit.” Bucky grimaced, pushing himself to a sitting position with his one arm. “You think we’re being followed.”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“I don’t see who could be followin’ us. You _slaughtered_ those guys. Jesus, Stevie, I’ve never seen you so fierce!”

Steve muttered something to the doctor and pressed money into his palm. The doctor seemed confused, but nodded. “Come on, Buck.” Steve went to pick him up again. “Time to go.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I can walk just fine.” He got to his feet to prove it. And yeah, he swayed a little bit, but overall he was able to hold his own weight.

Steve huffed. “All right. But come on.” He slung Bucky’s good arm over his shoulders and hurried him out of the medic’s tent.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“Away,” Steve answered tersely, heading towards the nearest jeep.

“‘Away’?” Bucky echoed. His brows furrowed.

“Away,” Steve repeated. He helped Bucky into the jeep and hot-wired it.

“Steve,” Bucky began, tone warning and suspicious.

“We’re gettin’ you out of here, Buck.” Steve climbed in and maneuvered the jeep out of the army base.

“Why?”

Steve kept driving, brows furrowed, mouth pressed in a firm line.

“Steve…”

When Steve didn’t say anything in response, Bucky sighed. “I don’t get it, Steve. We’re fightin’ a war here. Now, admittedly I don’t really want to be here either, but _somebody’s_ gotta stop those bastards, and I dunno, but you seemed like you were really getting into it.”

Still no response.

“…I mean shit, Stevie, you are a genuine bona-fide hero! Everyone practically kisses the ground you walk on.” There was an edge of bitterness to Bucky’s voice now. “You’ve got dames droolin’ after you, _especially_ Carter. Everyone thinks you’re really fuckin’ great. An’ you were always goin’ on to me about how you were just _dyin’_  to fight for your country. And now we’re drivin’ away? Am I missing something, Stevie?”

Steve’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “It’s not what you think.”

Bucky rolled his head in a sarcastic almost-nod. “It’s not what I think,” he repeated. “All right, if you’re not runnin’ away from everythin’ you ever wanted, then what the hell _are_ you doin’?”

“Saving you.”

Bucky fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was still sarcastic, but had lost some of its bitter edge. “You already saved me, Stevie. And now you’re runnin’ away. That ain’t like you—I have _never_ known you to run away from a fight. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Steve sighed, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he drove. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “…It’s hard to explain, Buck.”

“Try anyway,” Bucky challenged. He went to cross his arms across his chest before abruptly remembering he only had one.

Steve glanced lightning-quick over at him when he did that, but his eyes returned to the road. His expression softened a little. “It’s not what you think, Buck. I’m not in love with Peggy.”

Steve could feel Bucky’s eyes boring into him. “Come again?”

Steve sighed. “I’m not in love with Peggy, Buck. I never was.”

“…I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to. That doesn’t make it any less true.” He replied to Bucky’s prying stare with, “Look, maybe there was a time I thought she was my future. Yeah, I like her a lot. She’s an amazing woman. And I know she cares about me; I care about her too. But the thing is… we kissed, once, and that’s when I knew.” Steve swallowed. His hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. “…That’s when I knew I didn’t love her like I love you.”

“Stop the car.”

The sharpness of Bucky’s tone made Steve bring the jeep to a screeching halt. He turned slowly to look at Bucky, whose shoulders were tense, jaw clenched. He was watching Steve with the eyes of a caged animal. “What the hell do you mean by that.”

“By what?”

“That you don’t love her like you love me. What the hell do you mean by that.”

Steve closed his eyes, stomach plummeting. “Buck…”

“No. This isn’t funny Steve. What the _hell_ do you mean by that.”

Steve sighed and willed himself the courage to open his eyes and look at Bucky. Lit only by moonlight, snowflakes clinging to his hair. Bloody uniform pinned over his stump. Eyes cagey and desperate. Looking like he’s about to jump out of the car any second. “I just meant—”

“No, don’t tell me what you _just meant._ What the hell is going on, Steve?”

Steve blinked up at the moon, willing the tears away. “I thought I’d lost you, Buck. When I found you today… I thought I was going to find you _dead._ And that’s when I realized.. I don’t wanna live without you, Buck.”

Bucky just stared at him, as though afraid to move.

“That’s why I went so nutzo on those soldiers. I thought they were gonna kill you.”

Bucky tensed.

Steve heaved a shaky sigh and swept a hand through his golden hair, messy from the wind. “I’ve never cared about anyone’s life as much as I care about yours, Buck, not even my own.”

“…You think I don’t know that?”

Steve met his eyes.

“You’re practically a walking suicide,” Bucky continued. “But what if it had been Peggy? What if _she’d_ been the one that almost died today?”

“I would have been sad,” Steve admitted, “but at least I still would’ve had _you._ ”

Bucky shook his head slowly, eyebrows knit. “You are somethin’ else.”

Steve shrugged one shoulder. This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d hoped it would.

Bucky was silent for a long moment, watching him. “…You know why I almost died today?”

Steve looked at him.

Bucky looked away. “’Cause if there’s one person in this car that deserves to live, it’s _you._ ”

“Bucky…!”

“Don’t argue with me on this. You do.”

Steve leaned towards Bucky, eyes all protest and concern.

“Steve, as much as I don’t like it, _you’re_ Captain America. _You_ are the uniting force in this war. _You’re_ the one that the military chose for their experiment, _you’re_ the one they can’t fight this war without.” His voice quieted as he stared out at the moonlit snow. “…And even if this wasn’t a war… Even if you weren’t Captain America, you’d _still_ deserve to live, ‘cause you’ve always been twice the man I’ve ever been.”

“Buck.” Bucky could hear the tears in Steve’s voice as Steve reached out to him, didn’t move as Steve pulled him into a one-armed hug and sank his face against his shoulder.

Bucky swallowed. “Just statin’ the truth here, Stevie.”

“I’m not though,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s damp shoulder.

Bucky rolled his eyes up at the moon. “Steve, you are the _only_ one that thinks that.”

Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulder tighter and raised his face to frown at Bucky. “Stop selling yourself short! Maybe I _am_ Captain America, but I wouldn’t be me without you.”

“Steve, you’d be you whether I was there or not.”

“That’s not true!”

“Steve—!”

 _“No!_ I don’t wanna hear that, Buck. I’m here tellin’ you I love you and I don’t wanna live without you, and you’re tellin’ me which one of us ought to live, suggesting you ought to _die._ Why can’t _both_ of us live, Buck?! I’m sick of this stupid war! I just want to go home!!”

Bucky stared at him for a long moment. Several emotions flickered through his eyes. “Steve… The way we’ve been… We can’t do that when we get back home. You _know_ that.”

Steve frowned stubbornly. “Maybe there’s a place where we _can._ ”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? Well if there is, by all means, take me to it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just throwing this out there, but I absolutely *love* Peggy Carter, she was absolutely in love with Steve, and she was a very good match for him. He loved her too.
> 
> But in this fic, Steve has had time to get over Peggy, he's been in his head too much, and basically a lot of emotional shit went down over Bucky, and he knows he can't be with Peggy because she's super-old, and he's always had strong feelings for Bucky, and he's kind of re-written some of his memories. He faced some confusion during the war because he loved both of them, but his feelings were different for both of them, even though he loved them both.
> 
> which, in less rambly terms, means: Steve loved Peggy but now Steve loves Bucky


	3. Chapter 3

“Has anyone seen Steve?” Bucky worried aloud, brows knit.

“Nope,” Tony answered too quickly. “Haven’t seen him. No idea where he went.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him.

“Really,” Tony insisted, “I haven’t the foggiest idea where he could’ve gone. No clue. Not even the slightest, teensiest bit of a lead. In fact, I haven’t seen him all morning. Has anyone else seen him this morning? I certainly haven’t.”

“Did you tell him about the time machine?” Natasha asked, voice cold.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to Natasha. “Time machine?!”

Natasha raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Guess that’s a ‘no’.”

Bucky wheeled his attention back on Tony.

Tony held his hands up. “Okay, so I _might_ have built a time machine, and I _might_ have told Cap where it was. That doesn’t mean he _used_ the thing!”

“You told him how to use it?” Natasha accused, voice rising.

“I said I _might_ have!”

Bucky cornered Tony against a wall. _“Where is he.”_

Tony’s voice squeaked. “Don’t know! Maybe in the 1940s, re-living his glory days! I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell. Like that military program-regulation-thing. I didn’t _ask_ if he went back in time to re-ignite some gay love affair, and he didn’t _tell_ me he was going back to 1940-something to suck some desperately-needed dick. What’s it to you anyway? I thought he was driving you up a wall!”

Bucky clutched Tony’s throat with his metal hand. “You _what!?”_

“Natasha!” Tony rasped. “Help me out here!”

“Nope. He’s all yours.”

The expression on Bucky’s face only increased in ferocity as Tony squeaked out “Clint?”

“Not here,” Natasha said calmly, leaning back on the couch and popping a chocolate-covered raisin into her mouth.

Bucky tightened the grip of his metal hand on Tony’s windpipe.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll talk!” Tony croaked. “Just let me use my throat!”

Bucky released Tony’s throat and opted, instead, for pinning his wrists to the wall. _“Talk.”_

“Okay!!” Tony dramatically caught his breath. “So I noticed you two weren’t exactly in a honeymoon phase. I _know_ I’m not the only one who was roughly 500% done with Steve being mopey all the time. Figured it was probably driving you crazy too. So I thought, hey. If what Steve really wants is to see this Bucky person again, I can do that, right? I can build a time machine. Sounds like kind of a cool idea. Time travel is coo—”

“You sent Steve Rogers back in time,” Bucky accused.

“Correction: _I_ didn’t send Steve Rogers back in time, _Steve_ sent Steve Rogers back in time. _If_ that’s where he went. I don’t actually know. Maybe he went out for ice cream! Maybe he wanted to check out what it’d be like if he was frozen again and defrosted in another seventy years—”

“Do you have _any idea_ what he’s like?” Bucky’s voice shook. His grip tightened on Tony’s wrists.

“Uh. Yeah? No offense, but I probably know him better than you, seeing as you’re The Winter Amnesiac and all tha— _OW!”_

Bucky’s grip had tightened even further on Stark’s wrists. He didn’t care if he broke them. “Steve Rogers would go to the ends of the Earth for me. I don’t need my memories to know that. And you sent him _back?”_

“Yeah! Yeah! I sent him back! _Jesus!_ If that’s gonna make you let go of my wrists, then _yes,_ I sent Steve Rogers back in time, now _will you let go of me?”_

Bucky abruptly released Stark’s wrists. “Take me to the time machine.”

Stark massaged his wrists from his place slumped against the wall. “Are you crazy?! There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere _near_ that thing!”

Bucky took a threatening step closer.

“NO!” Tony said firmly, despite his obvious fear. “I am not teaching a master assassin how to use a time machine, much less a _pissed-off_ master assassin.”

“He has a point,” Natasha interjected from the couch, popping another chocolate-covered raisin into her mouth.

Bucky huffed out a frustrated breath. “Well, _someone_ has to bring him back.”

Tony grimaced. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Both pairs of eyes snapped to him.

“Excuse me?” Natasha had paused mid-chew.

Tony winced sheepishly. “See, funny thing about the time machine—it didn’t exist until I built it. So if I wanna travel into the _future,_ it’ll still be there. And if I wanna travel back to any point in the past when the machine existed, yeah, it’ll still be there. But in 1940-something? The machine will definitely not be there.”

Bucky’s fists clenched. “So you’re telling me Steve is stuck there _permanently?”_

Tony made a wavy non-committal gesture with his hand.

“Until his time stream catches up with ours,” Natasha guessed, eyes on Stark.

Tony winced.

“…He _is_ going to catch up to us, right?”

Tony made another wavy non-committal hand gesture.

Bucky straightened and marched out of the room.

Tony chased after him. “Where do you think _you’re_ going?”

“I’m going after Steve.”

“That guy that drives you crazy? Who you have _no idea_ when he is? Who might be in an alternate reality by now?”

Bucky kept marching, fists clenched.

“Hate to burst your bubble, big guy, but—you aren’t getting _anywhere near_ my time machine. That is just not a thing that’s happening.”

“Watch me.”

“No. –Okay, okay! There _might_ be a way to get Steve back. It’s a little complicated, and it might take some time, and—”

Bucky stopped. “What is it.”

Tony took a deep breath and smoothed back his hair before explaining. “I’d have to invent another time-travel device. A portable one. One that I could take with me anywhere. That way, I could just take it _with_ me when I ‘poof’ed into wherever.”

Bucky ground his jaw, considering this. “How long will that take.”

Tony counted on his fingers. “Five… ten years. _Maybe_ fifteen.”

Bucky glared at him.

Tony held up his hands. “But if I work on the blueprints for it now, if I have the _intention_ to make the time machine, I can travel into the future and see if my future self has finished it yet. The time machine I made is gonna still be here because I made it and I said so. Capiche?”

Bucky studied him, rage seething just under the surface. “Don’t you dare come back without Steve.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!”

* * *

Okay, so making a portable time-travel device was a little more complicated than Tony had initially thought. He knew he’d run into all sorts of problems with the whole creating-a-wormhole thing; that had been infinitely simpler with the original design. The new design basically turned the user _into_ a wormhole while they were holding the device—well not _exactly,_ but—it’s complicated.

After a long night of coffee and headaches, Tony slept on it.

Bucky glared at him all through brunch the next morning. Tony gave him a sheepish grin and slunk back down to the lab. There are not many people in the world that Tony is afraid of, but a super-strong pissed-off master assassin was definitely one of them.

Tony spent a few days cooped up in his lab, only coming out for food and sleep. Each time he came up for air, he found himself shadowed by an angry super-soldier.

Natasha seemed to enjoy his pain, the bastard.

After about a week, though, Tony came to a roadblock. He could only do so much with the technology available to him. He had the _intent_ to return immediately to the past as soon as he knew how to make the time machine, and as soon as he had the necessary supplies. That should be enough.

So Tony put on his most timeless suit, packed a briefcase full of the essentials, punched a date into the keypad, and stepped through the glowing blue ring.

And out into his almost-identical lab.

All his cars were still parked there—along with several new ones; he took a moment to appreciate his excellent taste—and all his machines were still up and running. Of course, everything was upgraded. He barely even had to interact with the technology anymore; everything seemed to be anticipating his arrival. He strode out of the lab and up the stairs, only to find himself greeted by an exuberant Loki.

Tony froze as Loki threw his arms around him and held him in a way-too-familiar gesture. “Tony!!” he exclaimed, pressing his mouth to Tony’s hair. “I thought you’d _never_ come out of that lab, I haven’t seen you in _days!_ What do you _do_ down there, all that time? Have I not convinced you that magic accelerates the process enough that you—,” Loki interrupted himself, having pulled back enough to get a good look at Tony’s startled face. “Why, Tony!” Loki exclaimed, green eyes widening in surprise. “You don’t look a day over forty! Have you been experimenting with de-aging serum again?”

Tony seemed rooted to the spot, much as he wanted to squirm out of Loki’s embrace. “Uh. No. Actually I’m Tony from the past. Past-Tony? From like, 2015? What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Loki blinked in surprise, then chuckled. “Ah. 2015… That explains it. Pepper!” Loki called, releasing Tony with only one arm, the other still casually wrapped around his waist.

Pepper appeared not twenty seconds later from the elevator; in that twenty seconds, Tony had disentangled himself and straightened his hair and clothes.

“Loki, what is it?”

Tony’s eyes widened when he took in Pepper. She looked exactly the same, except her hair was a little lighter and there were creases on her face where there hadn’t been before.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, taking in Tony.

“He’s just stepped in from 2015,” Loki explained.

“Oh… Tony!” Pepper strode towards him and laid her hands on the sides of his face. “You look so _young!”_

“I _am_ young, thankyouverymuch. Now then, where’s older me?”

“He wasn’t in the lab?” Pepper’s brows knit together.

“Um. No?”

Pepper and Loki exchanged a glance.

“Do you think he’s…?”

“Probably.”

Tony’s eyes darted between the two of them. “Um. Okay. This is weird.”

Pepper smiled sympathetically at Tony. “Maybe it’s better if you sit down. I’ll get you some coffee.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” Tony drew out the word. “Loki being here is a regular thing?”

Pepper smiled sympathetically at Loki over his shoulder. “Yes. He’s… one of the good guys now.”

“Uh huh. We sleep together?” Tony guessed.

Pepper bit her lip to hold back an amused smile.

“Occasionally,” Loki teased. He was standing halfway across the room, cooking something  _delicious_ -smelling on the stove.

Tony’s eyebrow crooked up at the sparkle in Pepper’s eyes. She ducked her gaze and stirred her second cup of tea.

“Okay.” Tony glanced behind him at Loki, then back at Pepper, trying to piece things together. “I’m guessing neither of you are going to tell me how  _that_  happened.”

Loki shrugged a shoulder. “Your present self requested that if your past self were ever to visit,  _he_  would be the one to fill you in on the details.”

“Of course.” Come to think of it, that’s exactly what Tony would do. “And you have no idea when he’s going to be back?”

Pepper shook her head, looking a bit worried, but like she was trying to mask it.

“Well!” Tony slapped his hands on the table. “Since I’m waiting, I may as well check up on a few old acquaintances while I’m here. I’m kind of curious how they turn out. Think you could help me find them?”

Pepper exchanged a long, silent glance with Loki.

_Yeah. This whole Pepper-Loki thing is gonna take some getting used to._

“Of course we can,” she finally answered. 

* * *

They’d been driving for some time when Bucky asked the question. “So where’s this ‘magical place’ you’re takin’ me to?” He was reclined as casually as he could be with only one arm, his stump smarting something awful.

“The future.”

Bucky snorted incredulously. “We’re goin’ to a Stark convention? Well golly, Steve, let me change into something more presentable!”

Steve ground his jaw. “…Bucky? If I tell you something, do you promise not to freak out?”

Bucky crossed himself with his one hand. “I solemnly swear that nothing you say or do is gonna freak me out.”

Steve pressed his mouth into a thin line. “I’m not the Steve Rogers you know.”

Bucky frowned. “What are you, a clone or somethin’?”

“…I’m from the future.”

“Okay, Stevie, it’s been a long day. I almost _died._ And _now_ you wanna play sci-fi?”

“I’m serious, Buck. I’m from the future.”

“No offense Stevie, but I’m gonna need some sort of proof.”

Steve glanced at him. “…The group that was experimenting on you is Hydra. They referred to you as The Asset. They’re planning not only to win the war, but to take over the world. The ‘me’ you know is in a bombed out bar right now, bawling his eyes out because he thinks you’re dead. That was the most painful night of my life. You have _no_ idea how many times I replayed today’s events in my head, thought of ways I could’ve saved you. Except in the future, you _didn’t_ die today. You were recovered by those Hydra soldiers, and they gave you a metal arm, and called you The Winter Soldier. They brainwashed you, Buck. They erased everything about you, made you forget your memories. They made you forget _me._ And I’ve been trying to get you back, ever since I figured out you’re alive, but you’ve never been the same. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing that was my fault.”

Bucky was silent for a long moment. “So… let me get this straight. You’re telling me you came from the future to save me, because I mean _that much_ to you?”

Steve nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Bucky gulped. “Stop the car.”

The breathless, desperate quality of Bucky’s voice brought the jeep to a screeching halt. Steve kept his foot on the brake as he slowly turned to his friend.

“You crazy sonofabitch,” he whispered. “You really did, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” Steve replied, pulling him close.

They held each other for a long moment in the moonlight, shedding tears into the back of each other’s necks.

“I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit,” Bucky admitted, voice muffled by the shoulder he refused to let go of, “but that takes the cake.”

Steve laughed into the back of Bucky’s neck.

“…You seriously came back from the future just for _me?”_ Bucky pulled back just enough to see Steve’s face.

Steve nodded, jaw set.

 “…Wow. You—you sure are some sort of pal.”

“I love you,” Steve blurted.

Bucky gave an incredulous little laugh. “See, you keep sayin’ that, but you can’t mean it the way it _sounds_ like you—”

“I love you,” Steve repeated, voice stronger, cupping the side of Bucky’s face.

Bucky swallowed. “Steve..”

“Just say you love me too,” Steve insisted, leaning closer. “Please.”

“Fuck, Stevie.” Bucky brought their noses together. “I’ve _always_ loved you. I thought you knew that.”

Steve’s voice shook. “Buck-!”

Bucky smiled up at him, the tips of their noses still touching. It was one of those ‘fuck me’ smiles, the shit-eating grin of someone who has accepted their fate.

Steve crushed their lips together.

Bucky forgot the searing pain, or the cold wind, or anything else in this world other than the feeling of being held so desperately and kissed so sweetly by Steve Rogers. Nothing else mattered anymore. He tilted his head further and moved his lips against Steve’s, hardly believing this was happening.

Steve drank in Bucky’s kisses like he’d never wanted anything more in his entire life. He could feel Bucky’s heart thudding against his chest, where his own heart seemed struggling to escape, like a galloping stallion kept in a cage too small. Warm little puffs of air surrounded them, from where they exhaled in the cold, breaths growing faster as their kiss grew deeper. Bucky’s one hand explored everywhere, cupping the back of Steve’s neck, threading through his short blond hair, caressing his shoulders, his upper back. Steve’s hands were more steady, intent on holding Bucky as closely and firmly, yet gently, as possible.

They could have kissed forever, but the sound of an aeroplane overhead reminded them that they were still quite close to a raging war. They pulled apart and stared into each other’s eyes in the moonlight; Bucky drank in the sincerity in Steve’s baby blues, admired the way his lashes cast a fringed shadow on his cheekbones; Steve stared adoringly into Bucky’s blue-gray eyes, reveled in the wonder of holding Bucky, _his_ Bucky, in his arms again.

“I love you,” Steve repeated.

Bucky’s answering smile was soft. “Let’s get out of here,” he answered.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Tony couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. His lips were pale—his whole face was pale. _“What?”_

“He’s dead, Tony,” Pepper repeated, softening her voice. “Steve is dead.”

Tony shook his head in disbelief. “But that’s—no, I’m fixing that. That can’t be.”

Pepper’s mouth narrowed into a thin line. “Jarvis?” she called.

**_Yes, madam?_ **

“Pull up the files on the death of Steve Rogers.”

**_…As you wish._** Jarvis projected several documents onto the wall for Tony to peruse at his leisure.

Tony stood up and walked over to them shakily, reaching out with a disbelieving hand.

_Steve Rogers died on February 14, 2017. Cause of death: asphyxiation._

_Steve Rogers was found in his room at Stark Tower, hanging from the ceiling—_ “This can’t be right,” Tony objected, even as his eyes scanned the article. “There’s no way this can be right!”

_No one knew just how depressed the famed Captain America had become. “He seemed like he was getting better,” recalled an uncharacteristically shaken Natasha._

_Upon looking into the reasons for Steve’s death, it is possibly unnecessary to look any further than the letter he left at the scene:_

_“To whoever is reading this—_

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

_I can’t go on like this. The only person left in the world knew me before I woke up, doesn’t even remember his name. He_ knows _his name, because we’ve told him. But he doesn’t_ remember _it. The first time I called him Bucky, he looked at me like I’d just addressed a stranger. Half the time when I talk to him, I still feel like I’m addressing a stranger._

_Whatever Hydra did to him, I can never forgive them for. But no amount of Hydra deaths, no matter how deserving, is going to bring Bucky back. It’s taken a long time to accept this, that the Bucky I’ve known is gone. He doesn’t care about me the way I wish he would. In fact, I think he’d be happier without me. All I ever do is ask about the Bucky I knew; I can’t love this new person in his body because I’m too in love with the person he was. I think he kinda knows this, and Bucky, if you’re reading this—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

_I tried to fit into this century. I read the history books, I watched the movies. This is a great time to live in. It’s just not the one I know. And maybe that’s selfish of me, wanting to get back a life I never had, but that doesn’t make me want it any less. It’s like there’s constantly this huge weight on my shoulders, and I just feel so alone, all the time._

_I’m sorry I’m letting you all down. There are so many people I’m glad I’ve met—Sam, Natasha, Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Coulson—the list goes on and on. But none of you could ever replace the loved ones I’ve lost._

_Maybe that makes me pathetic, for not being able to forget them and move on, but every time I see Bucky’s face, I see my past staring back at me, and all I want is to go back._

_I love him so much, it hurts, all the time. God, if that was really the Bucky I grew up with, there are so many things I’d say to him._

_Guess that’s all pointless now._

_Anyway… If I don’t finish this soon, someone might try to stop me, like Nat stopped me before. And I couldn’t take that._

_Just like I needed to let go of my past… now you all need to let go of me._

_\--Steve Rogers”_

Tony sat down slowly. “This… this can’t be!”

“Keep reading,” Pepper urged.

Tony gaped at her. “There’s _more?!”_

“Jarvis?”

Jarvis displayed a new set of files.

_James Barnes died February 20, 2017. Cause of death: asphyxiation._

“He didn’t.”

_James Barnes was found in his room in Stark Tower, hanging from the ceiling—_

“You mean to tell me those two idiots died exactly the same fucking way?”

_Barnes left no suicide letter, only a piece of paper weighted down by a handgun that read ‘Didn’t want to leave a mess.’_

An interview started playing. Sam Wilson, labelled at the bottom of the screen as a close friend of Barnes and Rogers, had bags under his bloodshot eyes, and had obviously been crying shortly before the interview. He explained that no, he didn’t know why Bucky had committed suicide, but he could hazard a guess.

Bucky had suffered from night terrors. While Steve was there, Bucky would always go to Steve’s room whenever he had a nightmare, and Steve would lull Bucky to sleep. Soon, the two had given up the pretense of separate rooms; Bucky slept in Steve’s room nearly every night. Sam could always tell when they didn’t, because Bucky would wake up in the middle of the night screaming.

After Steve died, Bucky only slept one night. He thrashed and screamed the whole night. Sam rubbed his eyes, recalling the awful memory. He said Bucky turned into sort of a zombie, refused to sleep. Wouldn’t respond to anybody. He walked in one time on Bucky sitting on Steve’s bed, staring off into space.

When Bucky wasn’t being a zombie, he was all twitchy and freaked-out, like a drug addict. He almost shot Sam a bunch of times, but his aim was off thanks to sleep loss.

_The last time he shot me,_ Sam said, voice shaking, _He didn’t freak out and apologize afterwards like he usually did. He just looked me straight in the eyes and said, ‘That’s enough.’ Took me too long to figure out what he meant by that._

A pale hand came up on Sam’s shoulder, and Tony heard Natasha’s voice off-screen assuring Sam that it wasn’t his fault. Sam covered her hand with his own.

The clip ended with a heartwrenching statement from Sam about how Bucky was one of the best friends he ever had, and how the world would miss him.

“…I’m sorry,” Pepper said behind him.

Tony scrubbed the tears away from his face. “Sorry for what? It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna fix that.”

“Tony…” She reached out to gently touch his arm. “You know you can’t fix everything, right?”

Tony shook his head emphatically. “No, Pep. This time, I _really_ am gonna fix it. It’s already changing. I sent Steve back in time.”

Pepper frowned. “What?”

“Steve. Back. In time. I sent him there.”

“That’s not in the history books,” Loki remarked with interest behind him.

“Yeah, probably because he hasn’t returned yet. You’ll see. As soon as he does, you’ll see.”

“Whatever you say, Tony,” Loki murmured while Pepper rubbed a comforting hand on Tony’s back.

* * *

If Steve was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure where he was driving.

He’d been headed for an airport, but he kept having to detour because of unexpected battlegrounds. He had long since changed out of his Captain America uniform, and had offered Bucky civilian clothes as well- which he’d accepted- but even though they looked like two Brooklyn boys on a joyride in the early morning sunlight, Steve wasn’t really sure where to go from here. They weren’t going to make it to the airport before the jeep ran out of gas. Bucky was in no shape to walk anywhere too far. Truth be told, Bucky was really in need of another medic.

But Bucky kept on a brave face, kept saying he’d be fine.

Steve knew he wasn’t fine. He could tell by the pale hue of Bucky’s skin, the sweat beading his brow despite the cold, that Bucky wasn’t fine. He could tell by the way Bucky clutched at the bloody bandages and winced that Bucky wasn’t fine.

Now his problem became: who would accept two American guys, with no explanation of who they were, and treat Bucky’s wound with the care he deserved?

They wound up in a small town in France. The good news was the town gas station accepted American currency. The bad news was their doctor had gone off to war.

So they drove on, Bucky wincing and clutching his arm, groaning every now and then. He’d stopped insisting he was fine.

Every town they stopped in was the same: men gone, women and children hungry, doctor off at war.

One town was big enough that there were still nurses left. They changed Bucky’s bandages and applied some anti-septic to the wound, but they didn’t seem too convinced he was gonna make it.

Steve insisted he had to.

Bucky was asleep in the passenger’s seat when the radio crackled.

**_Help! Someone, please help!_ **

Steve jumped, wondering who was on their frequency. It sounded like a woman’s voice.

**_They’ve got us—oh god please help!_ **

He tried to ignore the radio. Whoever it was, they were trying to reach someone else. Bucky needed immediate medical attention.

**_Please!!_ **

Steve sighed and pressed a button. “What is your position?”

The voice on the radio crackled out uncertain coordinates—it was a nurse, whose squadron was being captured by Hydra. She reiterated that they needed help as soon as possible.

“I’ll be right there,” Steve promised.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Tony had calmed down and was now enjoying some of Loki’s absolutely _fantastic_ home cooking. “What did you say we’re eating again?”

Loki smirked. “Does it matter? You always pronounce the name wrong anyway.”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

“Yes, you do,” Pepper agreed, nudging Tony lightly with her elbow, a little smirk on her face.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, so maybe I do. But whatever this is, is _delicious._ ”

“Thank you.”

Tony cleared his throat. “So. Are there any _other_ deaths I should know about?”

“No one you know yet,” Loki murmured.

“Great. I meet people who are gonna die. Well, that’s reassuring.” Tony stuffed his mouth full of food.

“Everyone dies, Tony,” Loki pointed out.

“Yeah. Well,” Tony spoke around his mouthful of food, “I’d like for my friends? To _not_ die.”

“I _am_ sorry about your Captain—”

“Don’t be. I’m fixing it.”

Pepper sighed.

“So, how ‘bout my other super-pals? Bruce? Natasha? Clint?”

“They’re all fine,” Pepper assured him.

“Yeah but what are they _doing?”_

“Well… Clint and Sam moved in with Natasha.”

_“Both_ of them?”                     

Pepper nodded. “Though if you want the details, I’d suggest asking her.”

“I _definitely_ want the details. Phone number?”

“Jarvis?”

**_Dialing Natasha Romanoff…_ **

Natasha answered, hair stuck to her face with sweat. She looked like she hadn’t aged a day. “What is it, Stark.”

Tony waved. “Hey. Tony from 2015 here. How you doin’?”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be talking to you.”

“It’s fine,” Pepper interjected. “Just don’t tell him too much.”

Natasha’s mouth quirked up on one side. “That, I can manage.” She uncapped a bottle of water. “What do you want to know?”

Tony shrugged. “Just how you’re doing. Heard you have a thing with Barton.”

Natasha finished gulping down water from her bottle, and looking unfairly hot while doing it, then wiped off her forehead with the back of her arm. “We live together.”

“Yeah? And you and Sam?”

Natasha examined Tony’s face. “We live together,” she repeated.

“You get into lots of kinky threesomes?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Wanna join?”

“You know I do.” Tony grinned.

Natasha smirked. “Too bad you can’t.”

Tony filed that mental image away for later Lonely Nights material. “So you’re doing all right? The three of you?”

“Yeah…” Natasha was beginning to sound suspicious. “Did you seriously just call to catch up?”

“Maybe,” Tony admitted.

“…It’s nice,” Natasha admitted. “You usually only call when you want something.”

Tony made a mental note not to do that. “Sorry.”

There was a lot of noise in the background. Several people walked in behind her. “Who’s that?” Tony craned his neck to see.

“Just the boys coming home for dinner. Wanna say hi?”

“Hell yeah I do!”

Natasha brought the camera over to the dining room, where Sam, Clint, a huge orange rocky guy, a blond, and a brunet were sitting. “Heyyy!” Clint greeted.

“Who’s on the camera phone?” wondered Sam.

“Tony,” Natasha answered. “Wanna say hi?”

“Hi!” Sam grinned. “Whoa! You look young.”

“That’s because he’s from 2015,” Natasha explained.

“Oh!” Clint said. “Well in that case we should probably introduce ourselves! I’m Clint—”

“I know who you are, dumbass.” Tony rolled his eyes fondly. Clint’s hair had gone gray, and his face soft with wrinkles, but he was still Clint. Sam had aged as gracefully as Natasha. “But the other guys, I don’t recognize.”

The blond guy grinned. “Johnny Lebeau! Former member of the Fantastic Four.”

The brunet he had his arm around took his eyes off Johnny for long enough to greet, “Remy Lebeau, former member of de X-Men.” He had a very interesting accent.

“Wait, wait—!” Tony protested, holding his hands up just before the rocky guy introduced himself. “I remember you! You weren’t an X-Man, you were a thief! You tried to steal my tech!”

Remy chuckled, a pleasant, low rumbling sound. Stark recognized him now; the red-and-black eyes, the graying reddish-brown hair, and unfairly distinguished-looking wrinkles. “Ah _was_ a thief. But Ah’m retired now.”

“And so am I,” said Johnny, leaning closer. He gave Remy a sickeningly adoring smile.

“And _you!_ Holy shit, Johnny Storm?!” Johnny’s face had softened with time, and he had laugh lines next to his eyes. His hair was gold and silver, and his hairline had receded a bit. “That asshole that hung out with Peter Parker? _You_ got _married?_ To a _guy?!”_

Johnny blushed and ducked his head. A warm blush spread across his cheeks. “What can I say? Gender doesn’t affect love.”

Remy leaned down to plant a lingering kiss on the side of Johnny’s forehead.

“And I’m Ben,” volunteered the orange rocky guy in the corner, “if anyone was wondering.”

“Thank you Ben.” Tony’s nose was wrinkled and he was trying to keep his delicious dinner _inside_ his stomach.

“Any time.”

“And that’s the gang,” Natasha concluded. “Now, unless you wanna come over and lose some of your fortune, we’re gonna have to let you go. It’s poker night.”

“That’s fine, Natasha,” Pepper answered for him. “Kick their asses.”

Natasha smirked. “I always do.”

The screen went blank.

“You always were uncomfortable around the Lebeaus,” remarked Loki. “They reminded you too much of yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Johnny Storm and Remy Lebeau were much like you, once. Serial dating, sleeping with every woman they met, left and right. But then they met each other, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“Not _exactly,_ ” Pepper corrected. “Johnny went through a lot of internalized homophobia before he finally admitted his feelings.”

“Right,” Loki amended. “I’d forgotten that part of the story.”

“You’re forgiven.” Pepper patted his pale hand. “You didn’t live through it.”

Loki smirked. “It must have been _vastly_ entertaining.”

“’Frustrating’ would be a more accurate word. I’ve never seen anyone crush on someone so hard.”

“And deny it just as hard,” Loki added, greatly amused.

“I mean, Tony freaked out pretty hard when _he_ finally fell in love, but I don’t think even _he_ managed to top Johnny Storm in sheer freakout level.”

“Um, excuse me? I’m right here.” Tony pointed at himself.

Pepper and Loki chuckled, as though sharing some unspoken inside joke.

“So two womanizers fell in love with each other, and now they’re disgustingly married. Moving on! How’s Bruce?”

Pepper chewed her lip. “…I don’t know. Last time we spoke to him, he was in Africa.”

“Excuse me?”

Loki phrased this as though trying to be delicate. “He wanted to be… away from circumstances which might make him… lose control.”

“He wants to avoid hulking out,” Tony rephrased.

Loki exchanged a glance with Pepper.

Tony sighed. “You know, this whole former-enemy-being-in-cahoots-with-my-best-friend thing is gonna have to be explained eventually.”

“Don’t worry,” Loki promised, “It will be.”

* * *

Steve arrived at the coordinates less than half an hour later, with Bucky still asleep in the passenger’s seat. He’d put on a helmet from the backseat and contemplated putting on his Captain America outfit as well, but he couldn’t historically be in two places at once.

Chaos raged all around him. Weapons were being fired left and right, the ground was littered with bodies. “Bucky.” Steve shook Bucky’s left shoulder.

Bucky woke up with a jolt, eyes wide and panicked, gripping his stump. _“Jesus_ Stevie! Warn me before you do that!”

“I couldn’t, you were asleep,” Steve pointed out. “We’ve got to help someone.”

Bucky took in the tanks and machine guns not thirty yards away. “Fuck! I thought we were goin’ _away_ from the war!”

“We are, but someone needs our help. Come on!”

Bucky cursed as they got out of the jeep and made their way towards the battleground.

“I’m sorry for making you do this,” Steve apologized. 

“Don’t be,” Bucky ground out. “Knew I’d never escape..”

“Don’t talk like that!” Steve objected sharply. “We’re just gonna help with this one situation, and then we’re gone. For good.”

“Whatever you say, Stevie,” Bucky replied, not believing him for one second.

A nurse in a dirty, blood-smeared uniform ran towards them. “Please! You’ve got to help us! Hydra—!” Abruptly she tensed and fell to the ground.

“Get down!” Steve ordered. He and Bucky flattened themselves against the ground. A blue beam shot just behind them, right where they’d been standing.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Bucky was muttering as Steve checked around for more signs of enemy fire and felt the nurse’s pulse.

“She’s out cold,” Steve said.

“May as well be dead. Like we will be if we don’t get out of here.”

Steve hated to agree, but he had to. The crossfire was edging closer. They could hear the dying screams of bodies hitting the ground.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Bucky said again.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and made a run for cover. “Come on!”

They made it behind the jeep, but no sooner had they arrived there than a blue beam blasted the jeep.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he sent Steve in a flying tackle to the ground several feet away, just before the jeep went up in a huge fireball.

Steve stared back at the burning vehicle, eyes wide.

“Fuckin’ knew it!” Bucky said again.

Steve pulled Bucky to his feet. They attempted to make a run for it. They hadn’t gone twenty feet when Bucky let out a pained sound and fell to the ground.

“BUCKY!!” Steve screamed. Suddenly there was no sound, except a high-pitched ringing. He frowned, dazed, as he fell to the ground next to Bucky. Enemy boots appeared before his eyes. He barely had time to register this before everything went black.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Vell, vell, vell, vat haf we here?” clucked a familiar German voice.

Steve Rogers groaned and struggled against his restraints.

“Struggle all you like, it vill not help.” The German voice seemed calm and unafraid.

“Who are you!” Steve couldn’t see anything. He was blindfolded.

“All in good time, Keptin. Vat I am vondering is, how did _you_ manage to end up here, vell over a hundret miles from your camp? And vith _zis_ man, no less?” He gestured, presumably, to Bucky.

“Let him go!” Steve insisted.

“All in good time. Vhy do you not answer my questions?”

“Why don’t _you_ answer _mine!”_ Steve retorted.

The German voice chuckled. “Confident,” he observed. “But ve can take zat away from you. Keptin.. ve can take _everything_ away from you.”

Steve was aware of the figure looming over him.

“…But ve don’t haf to. All you need to do is answer a few questions, and zis… can all disappear.”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re implying.”

“You’ll like it less if you don’t cooperate.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“If you do not cooperate,” the German voice stated with barely-restrained menace. Bucky let out a loud, agonized shout. “-Ve vill do zat, and vorse, to your little friend.”

“No, stop!”

Bucky shouted again, longer this time.

“What do you want!” Steve growled.

“Zat’s better,” stated the German voice smugly. “Now zen…”

And so began a long interrogation of the locations of different army bases, the state of their health, what weapons they possessed, and all sorts of other strategic questions which Steve, unfortunately, knew most of the answers to. Whenever he didn’t answer right away, he was treated to another gut-wrenching howl of pain from Bucky.

By the end, Bucky was sobbing.

Steve’s skin burned against his restraints; he’d been struggling against them the whole time, trying to break free and get to Bucky.

Satisfied, for the moment, the German man stood behind him and removed his blindfold so he could see Bucky, where he was laid out on a slab not twelve feet away from him.

“Say vatever you like to him,” instructed the German voice. “I doubt he vill hear it.”

And with that, he left.

“Bucky!” Steve cried out.

Bucky let out a pained whimper. His body was riddled with welts and scars. He’d been stripped of everything but his underpants. He was strapped down with steel bars, much the same as Steve.

“Bucky, I’m gonna get you out of this,” Steve promised.

There was no response, just Bucky breathing heavily- and from the sounds of it, wetly.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” Steve’s throat grew thick with tears. “So sorry…”

* * *

“Oh,” was the first thing Tony said when he saw his younger self sitting in the kitchen with Loki and Pepper. “I thought you might be here.”

“How’d you know?”

“Intuition.” Older Tony knocked the side of his head.

“Where have you been?” Pepper demanded.

“You smell of sulfur,” commented Loki.

Older Tony held up his hands. “I’ll explain later.” He grabbed a banana and some butterscotch syrup and fixed himself a banana split. “Now then,” he began, scooping rum-raisin ice cream over his banana, “What brings me to me?”

“Time machine,” Tony said.

“Well obviously. But I mean _why._ ”

“I need your help.”

Older Tony finished squirting caramel syrup and whipped cream over his banana split and brought it to the table. “With what?”

Tony chewed on his lip. “Okay, that looks really good. Can I have a bite?”

Older Tony tossed his younger self a spoon.

“Thanks.” He dug right in. _“Damn_ that’s good. Anyway. So you know how your Steve committed suicide?”

Older Tony’s face darkened. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to stop that.”

Older Tony frowned at him. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea, tampering with the time streams and whatnot?”

“Yeah, but see, time doesn’t flow the way you think it will, it’s actually more like a river, where time can bend around rocks and stuff if they get in the way, but it never stops moving and ultimately water that was over here,” he demonstrated with his hands, “is gonna end up over _here,_ no matter _what_ you do to it.”

“So you’re saying events are fixed?”

Tony gestured with his spoon. “I’m saying _some_ events are fixed.”

“You’re saying the death of Captain America is not fixed.”

“Nope,” Tony agreed.

“All right,” Older Tony said, “I’m listening.”

Tony explained his plan to invent a portable time-travel device.

“You mean this?” Older Tony held out an elegant-looking wristwatch, which he was wearing. It matched the design perfectly.

Tony’s eyes widened. “Yes! That’s it, exactly!”

Older Tony unstrapped the watch from his wrist. “All right. This is technically plagiarism, from me to me. But I’ll have one once you’re done with it anyway because you’re going to keep it.”

“Yup,” Tony agreed, strapping the watch onto his own wrist.

“So you don’t need to use the one downstairs?”

“Nope,” Tony agreed, taking another mouthful of delicious banana split. He set the date on his watch.

“Say hi to Steve for me,” Older Tony said.

* * *

 No matter what Steve said to Bucky, he wouldn’t respond. Steve wasn’t sure what they had done to Bucky, but whatever it was, they were going to pay for it.

He heard footsteps behind him. “Forgive me, Keptin.” The German voice did not care whether Steve actually forgave him. The blindfold came back down over his eyes. “I must preserve my identity.”

“That means you think there’s a chance I’ll escape.”

“If you vant to sink zat,” the German voice allowed, unconcerned. “Now zen.. you haf something ve vant, Keptin.”

“What’s that? Information? I already gave you information.”

The German chuckled. “Oh, it’s not information I want, Keptin. Vat I vant is your blood.”

Steve tensed. “What’s stopping you.”

“Nothing,” the German voice replied. “I vas just letting you know.”

Abruptly, Steve was poked with several needles at once.

“You may feel a little… _faint_.”

The needles sucked, all at once. Steve screamed.

Across the room, so did Bucky.

Steve screamed louder and struggled against his restraints.

“Keep going!” the German voice ordered.

Steve wasn’t sure when the needles were removed, or when they stopped sucking.

All he knew was, when he woke up, his blindfold was gone.

And so was Bucky.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Huh. Always thought the 1940s would feel more… I dunno. _Nostalgic._ ” Tony was standing on the ground floor of his father’s house.

“Howard?!” exclaimed a startled maid. “What are you doing here?”

“Just dropping in,” Tony replied. He grabbed a sip from the nearest coffee cup and winced. It was lukewarm and “Needs more sugar.” With that, he was out the front door.

Tony didn’t need to hijack an airplane; money bought him everything he needed. The pilot wanted a hefty sum in order to fly him behind enemy lines. No problem. “Keep the change.” Tony patted the pilot’s hands.

Once they were close, Tony opened his briefcase and stepped into his Iron Man suit. This one was equipped for stealth, so he’d turn invisible. Reflector shields were such beautiful technology. “This is where I get off,” he announced before opening the back door to the plane and jumping out.

Naturally, Steve wasn’t at the army base where he was supposed to be. Or, well, _a_ Steve was, but it wasn’t _his_ Steve.

He _did_ hear that a jeep had been stolen in the middle of the night, though.

Tony followed the tracks in the snow. The jeep had driven for quite a while before exploding. But upon examining the charred ruins, there were no bodies. Tony kind of figured, but he’d needed to make sure.

He picked up on a scuffle, and a set of tire tracks- followed by several other sets of tire tracks- heading away from the battle scene.

And long story short, he found himself at a Hydra base.

Startling the soldiers and taking them out with his invisible Iron Man suit was child’s play. Finding Steve was a little more difficult.

Difficult, but not impossible.

Tony lowered his weapons upon finding Captain America stripped mostly-naked, strapped to a table in what looked like a cross from a dentist’s office and a steampunk torture chamber.

Steve abruptly woke up and jolted upright. “Where’s Bucky!”

“I don’t know, Steve, but we gotta get you out of here.”

“No, I need to find—”

“Yeah, Bucky, I know. The thing is, he’s waiting for you back home, and he’s kind of pissed off. Come on.”

“No! BUCKY!!” Steve struggled, but he was no match for Tony’s suit, especially not in his currently anemic state.

“No time to explain.” Tony already had the date set on his watch. He double-checked it to make sure.

Hydra agents were pouring into the room, weapons raised.

“Adios!” Tony called as he pressed the button.

* * *

“No..! BUCKY!”

“You know, you _could_ be a little more thankful that I just saved your ass from almost certain death at that Hydra base.”

“BUCKY!”

Tony sighed. They were back in the tower, and Steve was struggling in his arms, trying to get away from him. “Jarvis!” he called out tiredly.

**_Yes, sir._ **

“Would you tell Barnes to get his ass down here?”

**_Certainly, sir._ **

The fight started going out of Steve. Now he was quietly crying.

“Dude. You’re gonna smudge the suit.”

Bucky barged into the room, fists clenched, ready to beat the crap out of someone.

“Easy there!” Tony held up his hands, still in the suit. “Just returning your Steve.”

“What did you do to him?” Bucky demanded, kneeling beside the pale, weeping Steve.

Tony held a hand to his chest. “What did _I_ do to him? _I_ went out of my way building not one, but _two_ time machines, saved his ass behind enemy lines, and brought him back to you in one piece. I think that deserves some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Bucky was only half-paying attention to Tony, cupping Steve’s face and cradling his body.

Steve shook his head, face crumpling. “It didn’t work…”

“What didn’t work?”

Steve looked utterly dejected. “I… I went back in time, to save you… It didn’t work…”

Bucky’s brows knit together. “What’re you talkin’ about, Steve?” Bucky sent a questioning glance at Tony.

Tony shrugged.

“After you fell…” Steve sniffled. “I saved you after you fell…”

“I know, Stevie. You told me.”

Steve jolted and looked at him. “What?!”

Bucky frowned at him in confusion. “You already told me. You came back from the future to save me, ‘cause you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t.”

Some of the clouds cleared from Steve’s eyes. His brows knit together. “But… they erased your memories!”

“Yeah. They erased everything but you.”

The look Steve gave Bucky then was Tony’s cue to exit the room, which he did as surreptitiously as possible.

“But when I called you Bucky… you didn’t even recognize your own name.”

“Yeah, numbnuts. ‘Cause they erased that too.”

The sinking feeling overtook Steve’s entire body. “So… you don’t remember who you are.”

Bucky frowned at him. “No. I don’t. I only know what you’ve told me.”

Steve’s eyes clouded over again with tears. Bucky held him closer. “Steve… I don’t remember anything about who _I_ was before the war. I don’t remember any of the hundreds’a people I killed. I don’t remember what they did to me. But _you,_ I remember.” Bucky felt Steve still in his arms. He checked to make sure Steve was still conscious before continuing. “It’s a little fuzzy, but… You, I remember. I didn’t care how much of me they stripped away, I didn’t care how much they hurt me, I just remember being glad it wasn’t _you_ in that chair. As long as I could remember you… I know this sounds dumb, but as long as I had you, I had hope.”

He felt Steve shed a couple of tears against the material of his shirt. “..Steve?”

Steve sniffled. “Yeah, Buck?”

“…Thanks for coming back for me.”

“I had to!” Steve stared into Bucky’s eyes, searching. “I don’t wanna live without you!”

Bucky’s face cracked into a familiar smile. “Well the thing is, you don’t have to. ‘Cause I’m with you till the end—”

Steve pulled Bucky’s face down with both hands and kissed him before he could finish the promise.

Bucky smiled against his lips and kissed him back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song Steve keeps humming: http://youtu.be/we2kmO24rgE


End file.
